


For Just One Day in Sunlight

by Morveren



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Had to make a new cast somehow, Horror, Mystery, Original Character(s), Psychological Horror, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9981521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morveren/pseuds/Morveren
Summary: The world shook on the day monsters came to the surface.They came in every shape imaginable: a bipedal goat monster who introduced himself as their king, a fish woman as his bodyguard. A human child who functioned as their ambassador.They came with power. Within ten minutes of encountering a team of soldiers, they had managed to beat them all down without breaking into a sweat.They came with magic, which sent every scientist in the world flying to meet them.And for you, they came with answers to questions that you have always been too terrified to ask.[Rewrite of Hope is the Thing with Feathers]





	1. A Brief Prologue

This was how the world changed when monsters came to the surface.

No, there was no earthquake that tore apart half of Japan, nor did a giant tidal wave wipe away half of Eastern Europe.

The President of the United States did not react to the news by pressing a red button under his desk and nuking Mount Ebbot, the first place where monsters were spotted.

On the day monsters appeared, no war broke out, no bloodthirsty warlord came in guns blazing, no natural disaster ripped the earth into two.

Nothing dramatic. 

Not really. 

Things, however, did happen.

Very tiny things. 

Minuscule things.

A musician in Prague, for example. She had taken up the habit of playing her ukelele next to a large, withered oak tree, three hours a day, like clockwork.

The tree had been dead for years, but she still remembered how she and her grandfather used to stargaze underneath it, how they used to trace the constellations. Whenever she played her ukelele, she thought of him.

On the day monsters came to the surface, a single leaf sprouted on one of its blackened twigs. 

Just one. 

So small and so tiny, the musician didn’t even notice it as she packed her things and went home.

But it was there.

A homeless man in New York, hand feeling up the brick walls of the building beside him, trying to find a corner in the alley where perhaps, he can stay warm for the night.

His eyes were old and nearly blind from cataracts. 

The man did not see how his hands glowed a warm red, visible beneath the cloth of his tattered gloves. It was the color of a flame, the color of warm coals glowing merrily against a starless night. It was the exact same color as his daughter’s hair, the one he had lost, so many years ago. 

On the day the monsters came back to the surface, the man did not care. But he did remember that night, he had less trouble falling asleep against the cold.

On the day monsters came to the surface, you did not know.

You were watching one of your patients, an old woman bent with age. Her silver hair gleamed in the sunlight. 

Her hands, veined and knotted, were wound tight around her husband’s, a man five years her junior.

“I know you,” she said and though she was old, her voice was clear and strong. “I _know_ you.”

“Yes, you do, dear,” her husband murmured. 

The woman disentangled her hands from her husbands’ and she gently brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen on the man’s forehead.

Her fingers were covered in liver spots and her fingertips trembled, whether from emotions or her disease, you did not know. 

On the day monsters came to the surface, you watched as your patient call her husband by his name-- _Robert_ \-- the first time she did so in nearly two years.


	2. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Sans yet, but I promise he'll appear in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

It started with the whispers, the way gossip usually did.

Patients who came in with minor injuries, the routine check-up, they were the ones who usually had the most to share.

Nurses, during those rare times they weren’t taking care of somebody, would sit down in their dorms and chat over it.

Even the doctors, who would normally be too busy to participate in this kind of thing, talk about it in hushed tones in the emergency room.

There were monsters in Mt. Ebott. 

Actual, living monsters.

The ones you see in fairy tales, lingering at the shadows, just out of sight. The ones who were supposed to be slain by a brave knight or a rebellious princess. The ones who parents used to warn their children about.

The ones who were supposed to be _fictional._

****

******

“Seen this yet?” Dana asked you as you entered the dorm the two of you shared. The television was on, tuned to a news channel, showing an outside view of Mt. Ebbott.

No, you hadn’t. It had been a busy day at the hospital, a car accident on the highway had resulted in an inflow of patients. You had spent much of the day doing rounds, running errands for the senior nurses and hiding from your boss. 

Right now, you stunk of antiseptic and soap suds.

The last thing you would be doing was sit around watching television.

“No, what’s it about anyway?”

Your roommate took one look at you and let out a laugh. “Christ, you look like shit.”

“Did you expect me to look like anything else?” you grumbled.

“Rough duty?” she said sympathetically. “I think there’s still some coffee left in the pot.”

“Thanks.” 

You poured yourself a cup and took a seat, working out the various kinks in your muscles that developed throughout the day.

Dana continued watching her show. 

A news anchor was standing in front of what looked like an open field. Behind her you could see several black-clad men getting into position.

This was...new.

Normally, your roommate spent most of her time watching Koren novellas, but this didn’t look like any of her latest obsessions.

“What are you watching?” you asked curiously.

She threw you an amused glance.

“I’m guessing that you haven’t heard the news yet?”

“News?”

You’d have thought that a pile-up on the highway would have made headlines today, but apparently, there was something else that had people’s attentions. 

“Some actress or other is pregnant again?”

Dana snorted at that. “Try again.”

“Some actor or other is pregnant again?”

Your friend let out a tinkling laugh. “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if _that_ beat today’s headlines, but no. Third time’s the charm?”

At that moment, your pager beeped, causing you to curse inwardly. 

No doubt another nurse that needed their dishes washed or their bedding changed.

“Gimme a minute I’ve got to take this,” you muttered.

“Well, since it looks like you’re having a bad day, I think I’ll just tell you,” Dana said cheerfully. “There are monsters in Mt. Ebbott.” 

“Crap.”

“No, really,” Dana exclaimed, waving a hand at the television.

“It’s not that,” you said hastily. “The boss just messaged me.”

You turned your pager towards her, so she could see the message written on it. 

On the pager’s screen, lit by the machine’s green glow were five simple words. 

_Meet me in my office._

“Ah, hell. What flowers would you like me to send to your funeral?”

****

******

Jasnah Sachdeva was less of a woman and more of a force of nature.

She was, first and foremost, a brilliant pathologist. Anyone who cared to look at her records would be overwhelmed by the amount of awards she received in her pre-med and medicine years. Graduated the top of her class in college, and again during in medicine school. 

Immediately after that, she had topped her board exams and set a new record that aspiring doctors-to-be would be judged against for years to come.

By the time Jasnah announced that she would be going to pathology, everyone was sure that she was going to find a cure for cancer. 

And while she didn’t find a cure for cancer, nearly a decade of work in the field had earned her a reputation for being a holy terror. 

Once every month, she’d have one of the newer residents break down into tears.

You considered it a point of pride (and a testament to your own mental constitution) that the woman had only made you cry twice.

She was also your attending physician.

“You wanted to see me, Doctor?” you asked tentatively, leaving the door open beside you, in case you needed to make a quick exit.

Jasnah was hunched over her desks, poring over reports. Your stomach twisted at the thought that one of those reports could be yours.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said absently. “Yes, well, take a seat.”

You did. It was one of those hard-backed chairs where the only option was to sit up as if someone had taped a steel rod to your spine. 

It made you feel like a chastised schoolgirl, sitting in front of the principal after she’d been caught doing something naughty.

You sat there for several minutes, waiting politely for Jasnah to finish her work.

Ten minutes. You coughed lightly into your fist, just to make sure she knew you were there.

Nothing.

Fifteen minutes. So far, you had managed to play I Spy nearly ten times, with Jasnah’s pearl necklace, her pager and an old feather duster sitting on the shelf behind your boss. 

Twenty minutes. You had found a loose thread in your scrubs and had started unraveling it.

It was starting to get to an embarrassing length when Jasnah finally looked up from her papers.

“What are you doing?” 

You jumped in your seat, dropping the thread and leaving it to hang loosely against your leg.

“Nothing. Nothing. Uh...you wanted to see me for something?”

“Ah yes.” Jasnah plucked a piece of paper and stared at it for a couple of seconds. “I am no longer going to be your attending physician.”

You felt your blood turn cold. Fingers trembling underneath curled fists. While Jasnah was a massive pain in the ass, at least you knew her routines, what she looked for in your work. You knew what she wanted from your research. 

She at least partially liked you enough that you were never put on duty for more than two days in a row. 

If she stopped guiding you now, put another attending physician as your boss (or God forbid, one of the senior residents), you might as well kiss your residency goodbye. 

Ice-cold sweat beaded on your forehead.

It took you several tries before your voice worked. 

“Did...I? Did I do something wrong?” 

You hadn’t as far as you could remember messed up. All of your reports have been pristine. You’d done everything the senior nurses wanted, even right down to doing their laundry for them.

Every time Jasnah had asked a question of you or grilled your knowledge, you had answered them to the best of your ability--except that one time she had roused you in the middle of the night to look at tissue samples.

You hadn’t given her a single reason to dismiss you as a resident.

Three years, down the drain. 

“What? Oh no, you were quite extraordinary, in fact,” Jasnah said absently. Despite the cold that was threatening to invade your bones, you felt a warm glow at the older woman’s praise. 

“Then...why are you letting me go?”

That was when Jasnah finally looked up at you, and you saw her eyes held a manic gleam to it.

“What do you know of Mt. Ebbott?”

“Uhm.” You racked your brains, wondering why the term sounded so familiar.

Then it clicked.

“There’s something on the news about it...uhm...monsters?”

“Did you watch the news today?” Jasnah asked.

You had spent most of the day in the emergency room. “No.” 

Without another word, the pathologist walked over to the small television in her office. You were surprised that it still worked; it looked old enough that it warranted knobs and an antennae. 

“Here, I taped it.” She switched it on and your attention was immediately riveted to the screen.

What does Mt. Ebbott have to do with the possible end of your residency? 

A reporter was talking to the camera, throwing around words like _unknown species_ and _sentient animals_ , so much so that your first impression was that your senior was showing your her favorite fantasy movie. 

“What--?”

There was the sound of a gunshot, cutting through the air, stopping the reporter’s words.

And the camera cut to the scene, the reporter valiantly trying to narrate what was happening. A man clad in military uniform was pointing his gun at a...giant, bipedal lizard?

It (He? She? It was hard to tell from this distance) was trembling in fear, eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun. 

“Doctor,” you had stammered. “What is this? Some sort of--”

“Shh! Watch!” Jasnah had chided you.

The man in uniform was saying something. “Don’t move. Or I will shoot!”

Despite the threat, the creature’s scaled knees wouldn’t stop shaking, its tail--lined with red plating--thrashing behind it anxiously.

As the camera zoomed in, you watched, with fascination as something leaked out of the lizard’s eyes.

Tears?

You knew that some species of reptiles shed tears to protect their eyes, and yet this creature seemed to be...

_Crying_. Like a human.

And then the creature opened its mouth, revealing rows of triangular, blunted teeth.

Then it _spoke_. 

What the hell? 

Somehow, the reporter’s microphone picked up the sound, despite the distance. The reporter himself had gone quiet, as if he too, wanted to hear what the creature was saying.

The voice that came out was small but of a lower-pitch. The lizard-creature could be a male then.

But it was what he said that stopped you.

“I just wanted a _hug_.” 

You sucked in your breath.

English. He was speaking _English_. 

More than that, the creature actually sounded young. Innocent. At the back of your mind, something screamed at the idea of pointing a gun at something that was most likely, a child. 

The soldier was probably thinking the same thing, because he was slowly lowering his rifle.

And then there was the snapping of a twig, a shadow looming over the group of soldiers, a gasp from the reporter.

Two creatures, both of the same species, you guessed, nearly eight feet tall stepped in view of the camera. They looked like some sort of...bipedal goat. Though the larger one--the male, you presumed--wore a full mane around his head, like a lion. 

Or a man with a beard. The thought disturbed you more than you cared to admit. 

“Humans,” he said. His voice was deep, sorrowful and it echoed across the forest.

Sitting in Jasnah’s office, watching a recording of it, you could feel the creature’s voice strike something in you. A deep sorrow. Longing. Regret. 

Whatever this creature was, it was very old. 

“We are not here to harm you.” 

But the soldiers were already advancing, threatened, maybe, by the creatures’ size. Their guns were raised, ready to fire. 

The small, lizard boy was crying openly now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No!” you yelled.

But then the camera focused on something else.

You saw polished bone, the smooth dome of somebody’s skull, familiar to you as your own hand, after learning to read countless of x-rays.

Was that the remains of their victims? It was still dressed in the clothes it was wearing before it died. A blue hoodie and oddly enough, house slippers. 

But then the skeleton _moved_ and you screamed.

A blue light shone out of its dark eye sockets and something inside you shivered. 

The television turned to static. 

“What?” you blinked. This was a recording. Had Jasnah’s videotape somehow been corrupted?

“Hush,” the woman said impatiently. “Keep watching.”

Ever obedient, you did. 

Soon, the static disappeared and...all of the soldiers were on the ground.

There must have been at least ten of them, and more than a few were groaning in pain, clutching their heads.

One of the soldiers must have hit his head against something, because it was bleeding freely.

He opened his mouth to scream. 

The reporter was yelling like a maniac.

“Send help!” he was yelling at the cameraman. “Stop shooting, no wait, give me that, then send for help. Oh God, do you know how to use a gun?” 

But then the female creature had stepped forward, her fur shining bright in the sun. 

“Don’t come near us!” the reporter gasped. “Don’t come near us!” His breathing rattled. 

You recognized the signs of hyperventilation. 

“Please,” the female said. “We monsters do not want war with humans. Not anymore.”

And so saying, she knelt in front of the injured soldier, who whimpered, trying desperately to scuttle away from her.

“I can help you,” she said kindly. “Here.”

Her hand began to glow, a warm green, like the color of a tree in summer or freshly cut grass.

“S-stay away from him!” the reporter screeched. “Don’t hurt him! Oh God, please, don’t hurt him.” 

But the female was not to be deterred and she lowered her hand to the soldier’s forehead. She was so tall that even crouching, she loomed over the man.

The soldier’s limbs went slack, his eyes dreamy. 

“What is she _doing_ to him?” you whispered.

“Watch,” Jasnah said.

The female acted as if she could not hear the reporter’s frantic yelling. 

But then the concerned man picked up a stone and hurled it straight at the female. 

Again, that odd flash of blue light (and the tight feeling in your gut that accompanied it) and the stone _swerved_ away from the creature.

Was this what Jasnah wanted you to see? These...monsters willfully breaking the laws of physics?

But then she removed her hand and you saw.

There, where a large gash used to be was pink, unbroken skin. 

Your jaw dropped.

It would have needed stitches, but here you saw no scab or scar. In fact, the only sign that there had been an injury was the dried blood that surrounded it.

“Can you imagine,” a reverent voice said behind you. “What we could do with that?” 

You jumped and turned around, you had been so immersed in the recording that you had forgotten that your boss was there.

“Bandages would be a thing of the past! No more blood loss in accidents! There wasn’t even...there wasn’t even a scab when she healed him. These...these _monsters_ could change the entire field of medicine!” 

Her voice had that manic tone she always got whenever she was given a particularly difficult case. 

When you looked at Jasnah, you saw that her eyes were shining in triumph.


End file.
